


tight spaces

by quicksparrows



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, wardrobe malfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23709847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksparrows/pseuds/quicksparrows
Summary: "Nothing," she said, stopping. "My dress just...""Got caught," he finished, immediately spying the problem.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife
Comments: 9
Kudos: 166





	tight spaces

"Bit of a squeeze, huh?" Aerith asked.

Cloud looked at her. He wasn't sure why; there was just some quality to her voice that demanded attention, and she was smiling at him. He had to turn his eyes away just as quickly –– he had to step over a piece of debris that was a trip hazard –– and then right back to her.

"Watch your step," Cloud admonished her, because it wasn't exactly safe. Manoevering around scrap metal and wood didn't bother him so much, but that was because he was wearing tactical pants made from heavy twill with reinforced seams and internal neoprene knee pads. A jutting nail or a sharp edge might glance off something like that. But not Aerith -- she gallivanted around the slums in a sundress and a dusty old jacket. Cloud nearly sighed, watching her bare lower arm pass within inches of a sheet of rusted metal. Her fingertips grazed the surface for balace.

"You're so bossy!"

What was she going to do? _Not_ get tetanus just to tease him?

"I told you that you don't have to follow me in here."

"What if something comes along and I don't have my bodyguard to protect me?"

Rich from the girl walking him home. Cloud sighed and turned his eyes ahead of him. Truthfully, if something did happen and he and his five foot blade were stuck behind a wall of scrap, he'd never forgive himself of the mistake. He sighed. She laughed.

"I think it's fun, anyway," she informed him.

Well, she could go right on thinking it was fun. In the meantime, he'd be busy figuring out how they'd get through this section of otherwise seemingly-unpassable highway. Cloud squeezed around a tight corner, but he found himself staring at an impassable wall of concrete.

"Dead end," he said, ruefully. "We'll have to turn back..."

"We tried," Aerith said, pleasantly, and she started working her way back. Cloud sighed and followed, stepping back up and over the debris.

That was precisely when there was a high ripping sound, and Aerith made a very small, very soft sound of alarm. He moved so quickly his sword scraped against the narrow wall behind him.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said, stopping. "My dress just..."

"Got caught," he finished, immediately spying the problem. It hadn't _just_ gotten caught; it had gotten caught on one of those nails a moment ago, and now she'd moved far enough for it to properly _snag_. It pulled the skirt of her dress taut around her hips, and she couldn't quite see what was right behind her, not without–– "Stop moving."

Aerith paused, laughing a little ruefully. She twisted a touch to see, but no doubt felt the tension.

"If that thing scrapes you, you better know a spell for lockjaw," Cloud said. He shifted closer and pivoted best he could. The space was a little narrow for his shoulders, so he couldn't turn around entirely, and his pauldron made an ugly sound when he tried. Aerith chuckled. He sighed. She was high maintenance in a lot of ways, but it was a surprisingly doable sort of maintenance. He'd rather be teased than berated. Better to have enthusiasm than whining. Cloud got in as close as he could, where he could see the very fine white print on her dress. The nail had punctured clear through, and his metal gauntlets affixed to his gloves did not lend him any particular dexterity in unhooking it.

The tear was quite long. Not long enough to be indecent, but from his angle -- well, Through it, he could see the long, pale expanse of her legs. He'd sort of them already, actually, when the billows that rushed around the church's rooftop had pressed the fabric up against them, and he'd politely looked away when she'd taken to the ladders.

What he hadn't seen was the curve of her ass, or the hem of her black panties. The elastic had a tiny little scalloped edge.

 _Black?_ he thought.

He unhooked her dress and told her: "Go."

She scooted along, looking back at him. He itched to tell her to look where she was going, but it was too late; her gaze landed on his face and he felt his cheeks burn, and the mischief in her eyes made him think, for an instant, that she'd done it deliberately. That or she was just shameless.

"My hero," she said, and she met the mouth of the crevice and moved out of it, practically skipping. She stopped and twirled, her skirts fanning out around her knees, and she looked down to see the damage: "Nothing's visible, right?"

"A little," he admitted.

She shrugged.

"Nothing I can do about that, unless you're also a traveling tailor," she said. She glanced at the road ahead of them, at the mounds of damaged concrete, at the chaos. She looked sweet in her pink dress, in her slouchy jacket. Unfitting. Like someone out of another world. Cloud shook his head and she just smiled. "No? Well then, shall we?"

She turned and carried on. Cloud followed, watching the sway of the tear, and that tiny strip of black.


End file.
